Hot Tea
by Xazz
Summary: All Malik wanted was his tea. He didn't ask... for this! -oneshot-


The morning was warm, thankfully though it wasn't summer. Not yet. It was mid spring and the air could still be cool in the morning before the blistering heat set in. But this morning it was warm. The new sunlight trickled in through the filter of Malik's curtains and the wooden grill shutters across his window. A faded light played across his face and the wall behind him; waking him.

Malik dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his face, stumbling into his little kitchen and found his tea and pot and the pretty white cup he preferred his tea in because it had been a gift from Kadar. He rubbed his eyes of sleep before taking the pot and going out to the front. He was expecting no one, which was why he was surprised when he found Altair sleeping in the enclosed garden. He was leaning against the wall, cushioned by pillows, in only his pants, his white robes folded up neatly next to him and his weapons and armor and effects resting in an orderly fashion on his other side.

Malik stood in the doorway, holding his pot, his face the definition of confusion. What was Altair even_doing_ here? Had he actually arrived before the pigeon? Maybe it had been attacked along the way (not something that happened often, but it _did_ happen)? Whatever the reason Altair _was_ here, the morning sunlight creating designs on the walls around him from the lattice.

Altair grumbled in his sleep and shifted irritably. Malik didn't know what to make of this honestly. He looked down at his kettle. He still wanted his morning tea. His eyes shot up when Altair said something in his sleep. Curious, he moved closer, to try and make out what Altair was saying. Then Altair said, his voice low and slightly slurred, 'Malik'. Malik's eyebrows arched up to meet his hairline. He hadn't expected that. He looked at Altair and again and nearly dropped his kettle… well he hadn't expected _that_ either.

Okay well, now what? Did Malik just leave or…? What exactly was the protocol when one of your fellow Assassins was… well… being affected in their sleep? About _you_? Or what about the fact that it wouldn't be the first time he'd done the same thing, only thankfully not anywhere he could be seen doing so. Altair shifted against the pillows again, and Malik decided.

He put the kettle down and quietly walked over to Altair. The other Assassin didn't stir and with a great amount of care Malik lowered himself onto Altair's lap. For a few moments he just watched Altair sleep and breathe. A slow and even in and out of sleep and a peace Malik only ever saw in Altair when he slept. Malik licked his lips and looked away from Altair's face down to his clothes all folded nice and neat beside him, like they'd been taught to do. He selected the the red sash, grabbing it by one end, it unwound as he pulled it. Very calmly he manipulated Altair's hands into his lap and draped the fabric around Altair's wrists in such a way so that when he tugged on one side it tightened.

Malik looked up when Altair said his name again in a sigh. His lips twitched and he looked up and behind Altair at where a lamp bracket was imbedded in the wall. He shifted slightly in Altair's lap to get a better position before reaching for the bracket to hook the other end of the sash around it, feeling the firmness in Altair's pants as he did so. Malik had Altair's hands half way up when the other man woke. Malik watched Altair's eyes flash open and how they went from sleepy to alert in a few, rapid, seconds.

Altair's arms jerked in a reactionary way and pulled Malik so close their faces were almost touching. Then Altair's eyes focused and Malik could see him realizing what was going on. "What?" was his perfectly intelligent inquiry.

"Enjoying yourself?" Malik asked him.

"You have my hands tied," Altair tugged gently at the bounds, bending his arms back and drawing Malik even closer.

"I do," Malik said and then reached the rest of the way up and hooked Altair's wrists over the lamp bracket.

"For?" Altair asked him and gave another experimental tug on wrists.

"I'm sure you know," and Altair hissed in surprise and most likely need when Malik reached down and palmed him through his trousers.

"What a wicked thing you are," Altair said, trying to sound blase about the whole thing. Malik just smirked. Malik slid his fingers along his trapped erection. "Most definitely wicked," Altair gasped out. Malik took his hand away and then stood up. "Hey," Altair whined. "Where are you going?"

Malik turned his back to Altair and walked over to his kettle, picking it up. "Would you like some tea Altair?" he asked him over his shoulder, going to the fountain.

"I'd like you to get back here is what," Altair growled and Malik heard Altair shifting on the pillows loudly and the creak of the lamp bracket. No doubt he wanted his hands free but it wouldn't work. Malik had_always_ been good at keeping Altair exactly where he wanted him.

Malik turned back to him, "Tea?" he asked again, half raising the kettle.

"You'll have to help me drink it," Altair said, having resigned himself to where he was on the wall and was sort of slumped, allowing his arms to relax above his head. "Do I get breakfast and tea?" he added.

"I wasn't aware you ate breakfast," since once they'd stopped being novices Altair's eating habits had changed. No breakfast, large lunch, small dinner. Malik himself enjoyed three meals a day when he could.

"I'm willing to make an exception," Altair said, brows raised a bit. "Except you'd have to untie me. Or-

"What do you want for breakfast?" Malik asked him without comment.

Altair shrugged, "I'll eat whatever you make."

"Good answer," and then he turned and went into the bureau.

"Malik," Altair called after him, "don't you dare put sugar in my tea!" Malik just chuckled to himself and put the kettle on to boil.


End file.
